


Hold Me 'Til The Morning Comes

by yxuraffectionatelaurens



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: I Don't Even Know, Internalized Homophobia, John is sad, Lams Trash(tm), M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Smangst, What else is new, and hates himself, john p l e a s e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yxuraffectionatelaurens/pseuds/yxuraffectionatelaurens





	Hold Me 'Til The Morning Comes

Nothing reminded John of the impossibility of the situation quite like the way they had to be extremely quiet. John was used to it - he was the type of person who knew how to stifle his voice when necessary, even though he disliked it. If it was concerning his slave regiment plan, of course, John would not keep quiet.

Here, though, John’s toes curling against the carpet and leaning into Alexander, sitting on the edge of his bed, he knew that in being silent, he was saving his life.

Alexander had whispered things into his ear that were still making John blush now, softly groaned against his lips as they kissed silently and with dulled fervor. He had whispered promises about his hands, the _things_ he could do to John with them, and enjoyed watching the other quietly unravel under his touch.

So far, it was working - with every touch, John was biting his lip, fingers curled into Alexander’s textured hair. The window was frosted with snow from outside, meaning that the fire and Alexander alike were working extra hard to warm John up. Besides the fire, a candle burnt on the table, giving a soft glow to Alexander’s tiny smile and his small shoulders. 

John shivered, and his whole body tingled with the sensation. Alexander’s mouth was twisting up at the corner, trying to keep back a smile, but John could barely see it anyways - his eyes were closed tightly. He gasped as if he’d been pushed under cold water, and Alexander moved his hand away quickly, knowing John well enough to know that he was on the verge of relaxing completely.

He caught him, and John was still surprised that Alexander’s small body, all angles and lines and edges, could support him. His skin felt warm all over, although he’d gone soft now, no longer panting against his lover’s ear with baited breath. 

Footsteps creaked down the hall, and John’s head snapped up, staring at the door like a bloodhound for a few seconds that stretched an eternity. If they were caught in this… compromising position…

Alexander, caution thrown to the wind as always, got to his feet as soon as the sound passed. Their bedroom in Valley Forge was much larger than most of the barracks men slept in, as they were close personal aides for Washington, but still small, tucked away into the corner of Washington’s headquarters. The stonework on the outside of the building protected them from too much cold, but not enough that they were unable to have the excuse on hand of _requiring body heat_ should someone come in unannounced.

Of course, using each other as a source of warmth couldn’t explain some of the things they did with each other, but that would be too perilous a situation to even try to formulate any excuse.

John sat back on his bed, feeling the soft mattress shift beneath him. His right shoulder ached a little, never feeling _right_ in the cold, and he was wearing too little clothes for the cold weather. In fact, he was wearing nothing, which probably didn’t help the gentle bite of the cold spreading across his skin. His stomach still felt warm, and John dragged his fingers over it - his skin was slightly sticky with the evidence of Alexander’s quick work, and he sighed, looking to the culprit.

Alexander was slipping back into a nightshirt, the smooth angles and delicate lines of his small body disappearing beneath it. He looked so different at night than in the daytime, where John saw Alexander in formal clothes, with a stern, professional face and ink blotches across his hands and lower sleeves. Now, his little ginger curls were held back by a soft ribbon and he was yawning, the weight of the world dropped off his shoulders for a little while.

Alexander glanced over at a dejected John slumped across his bed, still indecent. After retrieving a soft cloth, he sunk down onto the bed at John’s side and offered it to him.

John just looked at him for a minute, then took it out of his hands. “You have no shame, do you, Ham?”

“Would it be more appropriate for me to apologize?” As always, that cocky grin was still stuck on his face, and he watched as John wiped himself off and tossed the rag across the room. His lips tickled John’s ear as he mumbled against it, “You did not seem shameful only a few moments earlier.” They slipped down to kiss John’s bare shoulder.

Alexander was confused when John stood up, leaving him alone on the bed. His hands almost seemed to tremble as he yanked on his nightshirt, leaning against the writing desk, and the air seemed to shift a little. More footsteps walked down the hallway just outside their room, although John was not quite so worried now - they were both dressed, and no longer tangled in each other in breathless silence. 

His fingers curled around the back of one of the chairs, arms shaking. 

Alexander’s face changed from a smug, satisfied expression to one of concern. Some small auburn curls were escaping the ribbon, framing his face as he looked up at John. John’s eyes were pressed shut tightly, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the chair.

“Have I hurt you? If I have caused you pain--”

“No,” John mumbled, shrugging off Alexander’s hand as he tried to touch him. The candle was burning low near his right hand, and John tried to focus on looking at it. The light flickered in and out, and John tried to blink through borderline tears.

Alexander still stood at the table, watching as John sat down again. He was filled with concern, worrying that he had done wrong, that his advances hadn’t been something John wanted. Had he gone too far? Had John only complied out of discomfort?

The mattress sunk a little under John as he sat down, rubbing his face with his hands. He felt weak and stupid for wanting to cry, but his head was pounding, and he couldn’t think straight over that uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“I… am sinful. I deserve to be punished. You need to find a wife, and I need to be more devoted to my cause than I am to you.” A soft sound akin to a sob shook John’s shoulder, and Alexander was looking at him with less concern and more alarm. “We hide in the dark corners of the world and pretend that survival is easy, but I cannot keep up the pretense from myself. What kind of man can I call myself for the desire I hold in my heart for you? My father needs no more disappointment on my part, and I fear what would happen should we come to light.”

It was poking at the surface, something John tried hard to keep down constantly. How could he admit the self loathing that screamed at him every waking moment, the destable fear that gripped at his throat every time he tried to bat it away. It ached in his bones every time he leaned in for a kiss, stifled him desperately when he wanted to make a suggestion for their military movements. His thoughts meant nothing. He was _nothing_.

“John.”

He wasn’t listening to Alexander, sinking down further, burying his face in his hands. He still felt sweat slick on his hands from what had only been minutes ago, and tears were welling in his eyes. How could they keep doing this, keep holding onto each other in the night and skirting around each other in the day, reminding themselves not to touch. 

How could Alexander love him, after all the secrecy they had to force themselves through and the massive catastrophe that was John Laurens?

It didn’t matter how many times he tried to get his plan to work, it would always be shot down and the slaves would never be free - how many times he fell in love, he would always have to hide and force himself into silence - how many times he tried to please his father, he would never be anything but a disappointment, the cracks of his carefully sewn exterior making John want to scream.

He reached over, grabbing something - Alexander’s overcoat, he would later realize - and held it to his face to muffle the sobs that threatened to overcome him.

Alexander’s weight was almost unnoticeable next to him with how light he was, pressing a hand to John’s back. It was… not befitting of a man of his position to be so torn, to dissolve into sobs in a way that made him feel weak and shapeless. 

But John anchored himself to that hand, gentle, moving up and down his back. He hid his face from Alexander, keeping the coat pressed against his mouth.

“Have I done you wrong?” Alexander only called him John when he was truly concerned about him. “John? Do you want…” His voice caught a little, and that only made John feel worse. He couldn’t even keep the one person who loved him unconditionally from being stained with his messy life. “Do you want to end what we’ve begun? I… I care deeply for you, you know this.” His voice was ridiculously soft, hardly louder than a gentle whisper.

John sobbed silently, his shoulders trembling as he gave himself a moment more to fall apart. “Alex, we have taken liberties no men should take, broken laws that could render our lives to death. Your life is at stake because of the things I have done with you. I cannot keep myself from poisoning everything beautiful I touch.”

Alexander almost _laughed_ , and it should’ve helped, but it only reminded John of the nightmares that had left him clinging to Alexander in the fear that he would slip away with the morning light. 

“Provide me with examples, and I might pardon to consider that statement less than absolutely ridiculous.” He dipped his head to John’s shoulder, still stroking up and down his back. Trying to pull him back down to where the bad feelings couldn’t hurt him.

_Sniff. Sniff._ “You.”

“Well, I’m offended you think me damaged at your effects. John. Look at me.” John didn’t turn. “John.” Alexander was less gentle, turning John’s face towards him so that he could look deep into his eyes. “Chase these demons from your head, and turn your face to the sun. You are undeserving of such dark thoughts.”

After a moment of silence, Alexander moved behind John and gathered him into his arms. This time, John didn’t move away from his touch, letting Alexander hold him. 

“I did not intend to hurt you,” Alex whispered.

He leaned against Alexander, breathing until he could feel his throat relax a little. He didn’t feel like breathing was excruciating. “That… I wish to walk at your side, to hold your hand, and not fear that eyes may be looking in upon us. I wish I could love you as loudly as I proclaim myself your friend. Yet a larger part of me is… adamant that these desires are sinful and that I do not deserve you.” He pressed his face against Alexander’s face, fingers curled in his nightshirt, sighing through a shudder. “I am trash.”

“This is not sinful. Love is not sinful. In lying with you, I simply hope to put your soul at rest for a little while. If you would prefer we stopped, I shall never force you to anything you do not desire,” Alexander whispered into his hair, holding John to his chest. Their chests moved together as they breathed, and John let Alexander’s heartbeat soften his burning, bleeding heart. The whisper became even quieter. “You are _not_ trash.”

George and Martha were talking down the hallway, their voices buoyant with laughter, trying to keep quiet so as to not disturb all the officers in the Headquarters. Alexander and John were pressed against each other, arms wrapped so tightly that the impossibly loud contents of John’s mind paused, as if they were about to disperse.

It was near impossible to do so, but wrapped in Alexander’s arms, it was easier to pretend like he could push them down beneath the things that mattered. Duty. Honor. Abolition. Revolution. Alexander. Family. Love. Bravery. Alexander.

Alexander’s fingers moved through his hair gently, comforting him with a breath of a touch. “You are not trash,” He repeated, kissing John’s hair with no sound. “You are brave and loyal and determined. You are the first person I have loved so resolutely that my heart does not take flight and begin anew when you leave me - I always see your face and long to watch you smile, to feel your heart sing in resonance. John Laurens,” He breathed the name, letting it ghost against John’s ear, “No other being is as dear to my heart.”

“Your words wax poetic,” John pretended to complain as he unfurled his fingers and sat up a little more, tucked into Alexander’s comfortable embrace. “Such a romantic.” He didn't feel completely back on his feet, but at least he wasn't shaking now. Alexander knew how to calm his boiling blood beyond even what his sisters had been able to do. _Dear God, let this man live a long and happy life._

“You know my sentiments, my dear boy,” Alexander said quietly, curling his fingers through John’s hair. Morning would come, and they would untangle and drop the idea that they were lovers. They would return to pretending. But morning had not come yet.

John muttered a soft, “I love you,” into his chest, and sat in his arms, dreaming of the world in which he could kiss Alexander’s cheek and listen to the birds singing, right under the warm kiss of the sun. 

The fire had burnt low by the time morning came as John and Alex laid on John’s bed, a tangle of limbs and love.


End file.
